


Brotherly Love

by PugMaster



Category: Degrassi High
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Loneliness, it's T but it's a light T, mostly fandomblind friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PugMaster/pseuds/PugMaster
Summary: “Come on. We’re like brothers, man," Joey says, and Snake doesn’t ask who we includes.





	Brotherly Love

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3x06 "He Ain't Heavy...". Rated T for language.

* * *

 

_March 2, 1989_

_Dear Glen,_

Snake sits and taps his pencil against his desk. There's so much he could say, and yet, nothing he could tell him.

_How is med school? Have you started operating on people yet? Is the commute bad now that you live outside of the dorms? I hope you and your_

He stares at the end of his sentence.

_roommate_

That's not right. He had a roommate back in the dorms, but that guy had a girlfriend.

_boyfriend_

That still seems wrong to say. Not that avoiding the word will make it go away, but he has to take baby steps.

_friend_

That's the worst of them all. He thinks of all the pairs of friends he knows. Simon and BLT. Melanie and Kathleen. Joey and Wheels. Not these two.

_~~you and your~~ you and Greg are getting settled in. _

The pencil feels it's made of brick when he picks it up again.

_Mom threw away the change of address card you sent us. I picked it out of the trash._

He stares at the words for a long time. Glen should know what happened, but it seems so cruel seeing it in front of him in black and white. Then again, if Glen doesn't know, he might wonder why they don't write. Or maybe he won't.

Snake skips a line before he writes the next paragraph.

_I'm doing okay. School is getting tougher. I'm starting to see this really nice girl, Melanie. You would like her._

No, he wouldn't.

_~~You would like her.~~ I really like her and I hope we get to go out again soon. I took her to the movies once before but my friends ambushed us. There's a Gourmet Scum concert soon and maybe I'll take her._

_Basketball is going well. I'm still not great but I'm getting better. I've had a lot of time to practice because the band_

The success of the band is dependent on all the members, so it's been stagnant since September. Snake got Wheels a new bass strap for Christmas, but it didn't help. He spent Christmas with Joey anyway.

_is on hiatus while we write new material. When we cut a new mix tape I'll mail it to you. Otherwise, nothing new has been happening. Good luck with all the apartment stuff. Longer letter later._

_Your favourite brother,_

_Archie_

* * *

It starts off when Wheels punches a locker. That's weird for a few reasons. One, that Wheels is in school at all. Snake hasn't been keeping an official tally, but he would estimate that Wheels is actually in class probably twice a week, if that. When he is there, he usually spends his time sleeping or throwing paper airplanes. Or, as is the case today, failing something. This time it's an algebra test. Hence, reason number two why it's weird: Wheels cares that he failed an algebra test.

"Aw, c'mon, man," Joey says, trying to comfort him in the lamest way possible. "It's just one bad mark."

"I'm flunking algebra," he mumbles, staring at the locker.

 _Well,_ Snake thinks, _did you actually do any of the homework?_ He doesn't ask. He doesn't need to.

"You wanna go egg Garcia's car?" Joey asks.

Wheels chuckles. "No way. It'd be worse than that time we egged Raditch's." Their evil little grins are fairly disturbing.

Snake gawks at them. "Wait, you guys egged Raditch's car?! When was this?"

"Grade seven," Joey says, as if it's Snake's fault he doesn't like petty vandalism. "You know, when he flunked our whole class on the English test?"

"He wasn't there, remember?" Wheels says, his spirits apparently lifted by destruction. "We didn't hang out together in grade seven."

That's right. How could he forget? Grade seven was the Solitary Year, spent shooting hoops alone and playing with his new guitar. Before the Zit Remedy, there was the nameless trio of Snake, Shane, and BLT, but Luke moved in at the start of the year and toppled the balance. Shane found a best friend; BLT drifted into a different group; Snake fell by the wayside. Things only started picking up once Joey S. Jeremiah ("S" for "star") offered him the chance to be in a soon-to-be-world-famous rock band, and that wasn't until August.

"Oh, yeah." Joey laughs. "Well, it was intense! We got detention for _forever_! So worth it."

“You guys are _not_ egging Garcia’s car.”

“You can come too.” Joey grins at him.

“It’s not gonna make him change Wheels’ grade.” He glances over at Wheels, who’s still sulking by the lockers, paper crumpled in one hand. “You need to study, man.”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“I can help you out if you want,” Snake says. “I got a 92.”

“A 92?” Joey asks, as if he can't even count that high. “How’d you do that?”

“I studied.”

“Pfft.” Joey waves his hand. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

Wheels crosses his arms over his chest. ”Hey, I can study!"

* * *

Wheels can’t study. He shows up to their first awkward lunch cram session with half a notebook stuffed with doodles and a stubby thumb-sized pencil. Then again, his eyes are bright, and to his credit, he does _attempt_ to focus.

“Okay,” Snake says, “where’s the test you failed?”

He flips open the notebook and tries to find it. Eventually he unearths a cheese-puff-stained, crumpled test with a red _42%_ at the top.

“Well, your first problem is that you’re disorganized.” Snake scans the test. Okay, so it’s mostly graphs he’s having issues with. And quadratics. And factoring. “How’d you do on the homework?”

“What homework?”

Snake sighs. “The homework in general.”

Wheels just shrugs.

Great.

Joey runs up behind him brandishing a lunch tray. “Guys! I am this close to getting us on the radio!”

"Really?" Wheels says, completely ignoring what little progress they've made. Internally, Snake rolls his eyes. Not like it's tough to distract Wheels, but Joey's always the most efficient at getting him off-task. 

“Not now, Joey.” Snake pulls out some graph paper and writes _2x + 3 = 5_ at the top. Better start with the basics.

“Aw, c’mon, Snake! This is our future we’re talking about!”

Snake points at the test. “Wheels’ future is in grade nine if we don’t get to work.”

“I’m not gonna flunk,” Wheels mumbles, narrowing his eyes.

Great. So this'll be a massive waste of time. “Then what am I doing this for?” 

Joey smirks. “Yeah, there’s so many other things you could be doing—like Melanie.”

“Melanie’s not a thing.” Snake stares across the cafeteria at the back of Melanie’s head. She’s got nice hair. Very fluffy.

“She’s, like, nine,” Joey says. “That makes her a thing.”

“She’s in your class! And anyway, she’s the same age as Caitlin.”

“Caitlin’s mature for her age. And she’ll be fourteen in a few weeks, so she’s, like, only _kind of_ a thing.” Joey glances out at Melanie. “Are you gonna ask the thing out or what?”

Great, now Joey’s invested in his love life. “Not if you and Wheels are gonna stalk us to the movies again.”

“Oh, yeah!” Joey laughs. “That was awesome! You know we stayed and ate all your popcorn afterwards? Movie wasn’t bad, either.”

While Wheels and Joey chatter about the various merits and flaws of _Revenge of the Reptiles,_ Snake looks at Melanie and plans his approach.

* * *

_March 10, 1989_

_Dear Archie,_

_Hey! It’s great to hear from you. Sorry about the band. I’m sure you’ll write something great soon enough. “Everybody Wants Something” was just so inspired. Did you ever listen to the record I gave you for Christmas? Music’s just like basketball: all it takes is practice. Good luck with Melanie! I’m sure it’ll go well—you have my charm and my dashing good looks. The apartment’s going well. I included a snapshot of the living room, so unless people have been very selectively stealing your mail, you’ll get to see our glorious green couch. Med school hasn’t changed much since last semester, and the commute’s still fine. Write me back soon!_

_Love from your amazing older brother,_

_Glen_

* * *

Okay. Plan A. He is going to stand _conspicuously_ by the water fountain while Melanie approaches, then seductively take a drink of water. Is that going to work? Maybe? Probably not. But it’s worth a shot. After he makes her weak in the knees with his seductive water-drinking skills, she’ll fall into his arms and ask—no, _beg_ —to go see the most romantic of all movies, _Murder Mall III_. Or, given that she’s doing the asking in this fantasy, probably something that doesn’t involve murderous shopkeepers. But obviously, it’d be equally romantic.

He sees her at the end of the hall and attempts to put Plan A into action, although he has to position himself weirdly due to the logistics of the hall, the water fountain, and Melanie’s distance. There’s a lot of math involved in love.

He takes a drink (maybe not in a particularly sexy way, but he makes an effort) and as he lifts his head up from the water fountain, someone bumps into him. Water sprays everywhere. Slowly, with sopping hair plastered to his face, he stands up and attempts a smile. “Hi, Melanie.”

Melanie’s hands fly to her mouth. “Oops! Sorry, Snake!” She tries to hide her giggles. It doesn’t work.

Then she walks away.

Plan A: Not the best.

* * *

The next letter is easier to write. He doesn’t mention Mom or Dad, or the fact that Glen’s lime green, seventies-backwash couch is probably the ugliest piece of furniture he’s ever seen. Unless it’s Greg’s couch. He doesn’t think about it. He keeps the letter short, to the point, and pretty funny. Intentionally, he’s vague on the details of Plan A’s implosion. When Plan B works, though, he’ll definitely include a play-by-play synopsis.

Snake seals, addresses, and stamps the letter with perfect precision. As he heads out toward the mailbox, Mom calls, “Archie, where are you going?”

He holds up the letter. “Just mailing something.”

“Mailing what?”

The address stares at him, the little numbers that Mom threw away. “Nothing special. Just a form.”

* * *

Wheels is gone again soon enough. Where does he even go?

Lunch, then, is an unfettered stream of “—and I am _so close_ to cutting us a new demo, man, it’s gonna be the best, all we need is a bassist, but I don’t want to get Simon if we don’t have to because Wheels is, like, a founding Zit, and anyway—“ It’s not that Snake doesn’t care about the band, but he also cares about things that aren’t the band. The things at the forefront of Joey’s mind lately seem to be a) getting famous, b) getting laid, and c) getting laid while famous. With occasional bursts of “hey, how do you think Wheels is doing?” of course.

“Joey, don’t you have some kind of test coming up?”

Joey hesitates. “Maybe?”

“What are you gonna do if you fail grade eight again?”

“Drop out and start our world tour early.” He grins. “No way that’s gonna happen, though. Wheels is the one you gotta worry about.”

Not this again. “Why is it my job to worry about Wheels?”

“I’ve been worrying about him since grade two. It’s your turn.” Joey can’t even be serious for three seconds. He’s allergic to problems.

“He should be in charge of himself. Seriously, what is with the cutting class?”

Joey looks strangely thoughtful. “His parents just died, man. Cut him some slack.”

“That was—“ He counts on his fingers. “Seven months ago. I think it’s been long enough for him to at least come to school.”

Joey shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Why are you always defending him when he’s being an idiot?” Snake can’t stop himself from asking.

Joey rolls his eyes. "Snake—"

“I’m serious.”

“Come on. We’re like brothers, man,” Joey says, and Snake doesn’t ask who _we_ includes.

* * *

Basketball is interesting, to say the least. He’s tall, but Luke is surprisingly skilled, especially for a guy who smoked away part of his lung capacity. He’s up to H-O-R in Horse before Snake can make a single basket. They only stop once BLT says, “Sorry, guys. I’m meeting Simon and Alexa in fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, I’d better go too,” Shane says. “I have work.”

And Luke, being Luke, just leaves.

Snake stares at the basketball. _What, are you gonna roll away too?_

* * *

 _Plan B: Operation Date Melanie_ is a bit better thought-out than Plan A. It involves writing her a truly amazing love poem that he can tape on her locker. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it through too well because he starts writing with Joey and Wheels’ input.

“Okay, how’s this: _Oh, my darling Melanie / would you like to see a film with me?_ ”

Joey stifles a laugh. “That doesn’t rhyme.”

“Yes, it does.” _And you call yourself a lyricist,_ Snake thinks.

 _“Wagons are red / they’re also a toy / your hair is a puffball / you look like a boy,”_ Wheels says with a smug smile.

Joey bursts out laughing and high-fives him. “She does not!” Snake sputters.

“She does too,” Wheels says. “Flat as a board and she wears ties.”

“Oh, please.” Snake rolls his eyes. “Like you know anything about girls.”

He doesn't try to refute that, instead leaning back in his seat and saying, “I call it like I see it, Snake.”

“Whatever. While you and Joey are sitting around twiddling your thumbs, I’ll be on a fabulous date.”

“Me, twiddle my thumbs with this guy?” Joey jerks a thumb in Wheels’ general direction. “No way. Caitlin and I would double date with you two if Melanie wasn’t such a narbo. I guess I’ll just take Caitlin somewhere…. _private_.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Wheels laughs. “Good luck. Caitlin’s a total lezzie.”

Joey’s jaw drops. “She’s crazy about me!”

“Yeah, that’s why she’s sitting all the way at the other end of the cafeteria.”

“Oh, you’re probably scaring her away.”

"Guys, stop arguing," Snake says, half in annoyance, half in jealousy. "You're like an old married couple."

That sets Wheels off. His eyes are blazing. "We are not!"

Joey snorts. "We kind of are."

"Not like a  _couple!"_

"Wheels, it's just a figure of speech!"

Wheels glares over at Snake. "Well, we don't argue that much anyway," he mumbles, more to Snake than Joey.

"We do too!"

They descend into an argument while Snake tries to think of something else to rhyme with Melanie.

* * *

One day, Snake doesn’t get the mail.

He lets himself in after another day of _hey, where do you think Wheels is_ and _hey, remember that time in grade six— oh, sorry._ Mom holds a letter between two fingers like it’s covered in blood. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why has Glen been sending you letters?”

He backs away from her slowly. “No reason.” 

“Have you been writing to him?”

Snake’s face gives him away.

“Archie…” Mom sighs. “I can’t believe you would go behind our backs like that. Your father and I trust you.”

“But, Mom, he’s my brother!”

Mom drops the letter in the trash. “Not anymore.”

* * *

Shockingly, Wheels is proven wrong. Caitlin’s not a “lezzie,” and in fact, she basically clings to Joey throughout all of lunch, three tables over.

“See?” Snake says. “Told you.”

“It’s an act.” Wheels glances back over at the two of them—they’re practically making out at the lunch table—and sticks his tongue out. “Gross. They need to get a room.”

Snake can’t resist his chance to gloat. “That’s a pretty good act for a lesbian, don’t you think?”

Wheels rolls his eyes. “Why do you have to nitpick everything I say?”

Where the hell did that come from? “I’m not nitpicking! I just think it’s weird how you have to hate both our girlfriends.”

“I don’t hate them. I’m just giving my opinion, is all. Melanie looks like a boy and _I thought_ Caitlin was a total lesbian.” He gives Joey and Caitlin another sour glance, still looking unconvinced. "And Melanie's not your girlfriend, in case you haven't noticed."

He ignores the slight. "Maybe  _you_ should get a girlfriend instead of whining about Joey and Caitlin," Snake suggests. 

"Like who?"

Snake goes through his mental Rolodex, trying to think of a girl who might not be completely repulsed by the idea of dating Wheels. It's a short list. "LD, maybe? I think she likes you."

"Right. Uh-huh." Wheels makes a face. 

Whatever _that_ means. "Uh, let's see... Heather? For some ungodly reason, she thinks you're cute."

Wheels laughs humorlessly. "Like that'd ever happen."  

Snake pours the sarcasm on thick. “Oh, I get it. No girl can live up to the insurmountable standards of Derek Wheeler. So sad.”

Instead of giving him a cocky grin like normal, Wheels looks suspicious. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not _saying_ anything! Jeez, Wheels, what’s your problem lately?” 

“Well, sorry I haven’t been having the best year,” he mumbles before starting to pick at his lunch. 

Snake breaks the sullen silence. “Do you want to work on algebra?”

“Do you want to be stabbed in the eye?” Wheels has a pained expression.

“You’re being melodramatic.”

“I am not!” He scoffs. “Just ‘cuz it’s easy for you…”

“I _study._ ”

“Yeah, right.” Wheels stands up. “I’m not gonna sit around and be nagged.” 

* * *

Melanie approaches him with the note lovingly folded in her hand. At least something good is happening.

“Snake…” She gives him a smile of gentle rejection. By now, he knows it well. “I can’t go out this weekend. Kathleen and I made plans ages ago. I’m really sorry.”

His shoulders slump. “That’s okay, I guess. Maybe next weekend. I’ll tell you how it is, though.”

“All right.” She smiles again, but it doesn’t reassure him.

 

So he’s going to see _Murder Mall III_ either way, and he’s not going to see it alone. There’s not many people he can ask, though.

“Sorry, dude,” Joey says. “Caitlin and I are gonna try and figure something out.” That’s it. No concrete plans, no familial obligations, not even just a straight _Sorry, Snake, I’m too good to hang out with you._ At least that’d be honest.

 

Great. Now he has to ask Wheels, who is extremely busy standing in the park throwing rocks at nothing. “Do you want to see _Murder Mall III_ this weekend?” he asks in one breath.

Wheels holds the rock in one hand and thinks. “Is Joey coming?”

 _Oh, for fuck’s sake._ “Can’t we hang out without Joey?”

“Why?” 

"What do you mean, _why?_ We're friends!"

Wheels doesn't answer. He goes back to throwing rocks at nothing.

 

Now Snake has to go to down the list to Basketball Friends. BLT is busy with his real friends; Luke’s planning on doing whatever it is he does in his free time (maybe selling pills down at the arcade, who knows).

“It's not that I don't wanna go, it's just that movie tickets are kind of expensive,” Shane says.

“I’ll pay half.” So he has to pay for friendship. Friend prostitution.

Shane rolls the offer around in his mind for a while. “I should use it for child support, I don’t know.”

“How much did you and Luke spend on cigs last week?”

Finally, Shane says, “I guess I can.”

 _I guess._ Truly the words of lasting friendship.

* * *

_March 21, 1989_

_Dear Glen,_

_Things have been really tough lately. A lot of my friends have decided they don’t want to hang out with me anymore. Things didn’t go well with Melanie. Everything’s weird right now._

_Don’t write back. Mom started screening my mail._

_Archie_

* * *

_Murder Mall III_ sucks.

* * *

Mom gives him a Look with a capital L when he walks in the door Saturday evening. “How was the movie?”

“Fine, I guess. Kind of boring.”

“Did you go with that girl? Melanie?” Her eyes soften.

There's something hiding behind the question, but Snake can't see what it is. “No, she was busy. I went with Shane from basketball.”

She nods once, slowly, her expression unreadable. “His father’s a minister, isn’t he?”

“Uh, I think so.”

“Good. That’s nice.”

* * *

Finally, Snake can’t take it any more. After a lunch filled with random stuff about the band and little half-baked memories of grade school that he doesn’t have access to, he has to ask it. “Don’t you guys want me around?”

Joey looks at him like he just asked _don’t you guys like eating babies?_ “Uh, yeah. What’s up, man?”

“It’s just, every time I come over to this table it’s all, ‘Wheels and Joey, Joey and Wheels.’ ‘Don’t you remember that time that we did the cool thing when Snake wasn’t there?’ ‘Why is Joey hanging out with his girlfriend instead of me?’ ‘Where’s Wheels, cutting class for the twelve millionth time?’”

Joey's actually taken aback by that. "Of course we want you around! You're our guitarist!"

He can't hide his hurt feelings. "Is that all I'm good for?"

“Of course not! We just haven’t known you as long,” Joey says. “You were the big man on campus in elementary, remember.”

Yeah, back when people wanted to hang out with him.

"Give us a window into your mind, Snake,” Joey says in his corniest voice. "Come on. Pour your heart out."

“Oh, please.”

Wheels doesn’t say anything, just gives him another Look.

* * *

Snake’s taking the trash out when he finds a crumpled paper with the word _Archie_ on it, sandwiched between a coffee filter and a banana peel. Carefully, he fishes it out.

_03/26/89_

_Dear Archie,_

_I know it’s weird that I’m writing you instead of Glen, but he thought I'd get past your parents easier. He didn't think they remembered my name. Hope it worked._

_It’s really nice of you to try and keep up with Glen despite all that parent stuff you've got going on. He’s been doing well in school and the apartment is coming along, but he’s worried about you. Things don’t sound good. You’re all he talks about half the time. I hope things pick up._

_Sincerely,_

_Greg_

At the bottom of the letter is a scrawled phone number and a taped-on quarter.

* * *

It’s a strange area code, but Snake makes the call without a second thought. From a phone booth, naturally, so it won’t appear on the bill.

A deep-voiced guy picks up the phone. “Hello?”

Great. “Uh, hi. Is this— is this Greg?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Archie Simpson.”

There’s a pause, then a slight shuffling noise while Greg yells, “Glen, phone!” _Oh, good, he’s a caveman._

“Little brother!” Glen sounds absolutely overjoyed to be talking to him. That’s new. “So it worked? Did you get the letter?”

“Uh, no. I picked it out of the trash.”

There’s dead air for a second. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs before remembering that Glen can’t see him. It’s weird, having to talk to Glen over the phone. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, things are going great! Just got an A on one of my midterms, and for my worst class too…”

Snake feeds a seemingly endless supply of quarters into the phone. Glen actually wants to talk to him. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling lately, that even with him making an ass of himself in front of Melanie, with the weird monolith of Joey-and-Wheels doing whatever the hell it is they do, with the basketball team barely acknowledging his existence, _someone wants to talk to him._ They talk until the sky starts turning pink and Snake has to force out a “Mom-will-be-worried-but-I’ll-call-tomorrow” in order to not be slaughtered at his parents’ hands. When everybody else is being weird, at least he has his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a headcanon that Snake and Wheels aren't really that close and mostly came together for the band and their mutual friendship with Joey. Combine that with an idea I had about Snake, Glen, and their parents, plus an added dose of Wheels and Joey being super close (there was some...interesting accidental subtext in an as-yet-unpublished chapter of "That Was Then, This Is Now"), and you get this very weird fic.
> 
> A non-AO3 friend challenged me to write Wheels further down on the "douchebag scale," as my depiction of him in "That Was Then, This Is Now" is a lot more favorable (as was noted in a review, lol). Hence why that fic and this one are only technically compatible. So, sorry, fellow Wheels fans.
> 
> As always, I tried to proof out Americanisms and anachronisms (it drove both me and my spellcheck insane when I realized Snake would write "favourite" and not "favorite" brother), but if I missed some, let me know! 
> 
> If you liked this, please leave kudos or a comment so I know! And if you didn't, leave a comment so I can improve :)


End file.
